Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
My routine was upset yesterday because of scorching heat. It’s getting upset again today for the same reason. I’m a writer. This is unacceptable.
Well, let me back up a bit. It’s a busy workweek, so writing isn’t exactly what’s getting thrown off track, but as a writer, I’ve been a creature of habit for about as long as I’ve been tying my own shoes. I’ve talked about it before, but nothing helps me produce fiction like doing the same thing at the same time every day — that is, when I have the luxury, sitting down and writing for a few hours. Somehow, the brain becomes accustomed to the routine, looks forward to it, prepares (even while I’m sleeping!), and leaps into action the moment I open the file I’m working on. Then, if I’m really lucky, time passes as if I’m in a suspended-animation pod, I look up, and it’s lunch time. Oh, and I have a couple thousand words on my screen good enough to keep.
But being a creature of habit has filtered into other areas of my life, so that having to walk the dog at 10 am instead of 2 pm is a major aggravation. (Yes, I work at home, so at least I have the flexibility, I know, and I should stop complaining.) Then the rest of the day is screwed up because I have to work right after lunch and keep working till daily guitar-practice time. Then it’s read-and-listen-to-music time, then dinner. Then watch-baseball time, then read-in-the-bath-time, then Colbert-time, then beddy-bye time.
Then I get up and do it all again.
I’ve read somewhere that Buddhist monks achieve inner serenity by doing the same thing at the same time every day, in an unwavering repetition of the perfect order.
I don’t know about that, but I am looking ahead in the weather forecast to see when I can get back to my routine.